I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, I 

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tpH' f WisM I" I 

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UNITED STATES OE AMKUiCA ? 















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Entered according to Act of Congress, .in the year 1875, by 

George T. Paine, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



PRESS OF 

RHODE ISLAND PRINTING COMPANY, 

PROVIDENCE, R. I. 



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WE, 

THEIR GHILDREM, 

Lovingly Dedicate 

TO 

OUR DEAR FATHER 

TKESH 

Poetical Memories 

OF 

OUR SAINTED 
MOTHER, 



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L. E. A. 



Died February 21st, 1874. 



Her life-time grew in beauty, 

As rounded as the rose, 
More fragrant far, more pure, more rare; 

Than any flower that grov/s. 

Plant asphodels above her, 
For Oh ! she loved them so, 

And heliotrope and violets, 

And all things sweet that blow. 

And Gull for her all lilies, 

The blooms of poesy. 
Her face and words in lovely life 

Sang sweeter minstrelsy. 



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Twine harp with wreath of laurel, 

Encircling garnered grain. 
The songstress crowned is sleeping now. 

We cannot hear a strain 

Of sadly singing music. 

List for celestial lyre, 
The silver string that snapped on earth 

Will chord in heavenly choir. 

L. M. P. 




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CONTENTS. 



Nothing But Leaves, ..... % 

The Baby; ....... 4 

Baby Gem, ...... § 

Willie, ... ... 6 

To Charlie and Walter, ..... 7 

Belle's Baby, ....... 9 

Rain and Wind, . 10 

Our Angels, ... ... 11 

The Little Children, ... i§ 

The Beautiful Child Jesus, . . . 14 

Summer Days, ...... 1§ 

"AT'eary Waiting, . . ■ . .16 

Western Light at Sunset, . . 18 
Reply to ''The Crickets," .19 

To the Figure of Time, . ■ . . . . §1 

The Soul's Image, . . §S 

Human Love. . . * . . . §4 
Up the Hill, .......§§ 

The Painted Chamber, ..... §7 

To O. W. H. . . . . §9 

To J. J. M. . . §§ 

The Man in the Moon, . . il 

Issachar, . ...... §4 

Charles Sumner, .... . §§ 



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The Poor, • . §7 
An Appeal, ■■•.... §8 

Pleadings. . .19 

Hymn, ... ■ . . 41 

„;__- Woman Suiirags. . < 41 

Good Night, . . . . 4§ 

Greeting to Caleb Metoaif, .... 47 

Welcome to Rev. A. Woodbury, . .49 

'- — The Loyal North, . . §1 

The Barberry, . . . §§ 

The Two Pearls, . . . . §>% 

Idols, ..... . . §4 

The River of Life, .....§§ 

The Unknown Shore, . §6 

The Street called Straight, . . .58 

Hereafter, . . . . . . . §9 

Baby Sleeps, ...... 60 

Agnes, . . . . . .61 

Paul Akers, . . " . . 6§ 

Col. Robert G. Shaw, . . . . . 6§ 

In Memoriam W. W. P. .A. . 66 

In Memoriam J. C. J. . 67 

:.i Memoriam C. A. M. . . . 68 

In Memoriam W. M". R. . . .69 

In Memoriam M. J. D. . . . . . 70 

In Memoriam J. M B. .71 

Rome, ... . . n 



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NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 

Mark XI: 13. 



Nothing but leaves ! the Spirit grieves 

Over a wasted life ; 
Sin committed while conscience slept, 
Promises made, but never kept. 

Hatred, battle and strife ; 

Nothing but leaves'. 

Nothing but leaves! no garnered sheaves 

Of life's fair, ripened grain; 
Words, idle words, for earnest deeds ; 
We sov/ our seeds— lo ! tares and weeds 

We reap with toil and pain 
Nothing but leaves. 

Nothing but leaves', memory weaves 

No veil to screen the past; 
As we retrace cur weary way. 
Counting each lost and misspent day, 
We find sadiy at last 

Nothing but leaves. 

And shall we meet the Master so, 

Bearing our v/ithered leaves? 
The Saviour looks for perfect fruit-- 
We stand before Him humble, mute, 
Waiting the words He breathes— 
''Nothing but leaves?" 



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THE EABY. 




Another little v/ave 

Upon the sea of life; 
Another soul to save, 

Amid its toil and strife. 

Tv/o more little feet 

To walk the dusty road- 

To choose where two paths meet 
The narrow, or the broad. 

Two more little hands 
To work for good or ill ; 

Two more little eyes; 
Another little will. 

Another heart to love. 

Receiving love again, 
A_nd so the baby came 

A thing of joy and pain. 



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BABY GEM. 




Bessie's darling, Baby Gem ! 

Truly call her pearl ; 
Would Bessie give for Orient toy, 

The heart all in a whirl 
Of joy, and glee and ecstasy, 

Or thousand little wiles 
That play like rainbows o'er her face, 

Whenever baby smiles ? 

The diamond is a gorgeous gem. 

Its lustre never dies ; 
Would Bessie for the diamond's glare, 

Give baby's soul-lit eyes ? 
A thread of gold is rich and prized ; 

Its woof is wondrous fair; 
Not for spun gold v/ould Bessie give 

Her baby's sunny hair. 

No ! emerald and amethyst 

May spread their lures in vain ; 
For Bessie and her Baby Gem 

Are bound with love's strong chain: 
Stronger than life, stronger than death, 

The chain by angels wrought; 
And Bessie's love for Baby Gem 

With holy joy is fraught. 



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WILLIE. 




Aged Eight Months. 

Dear Willie came with angel eyeS; 
And holy look of ''pleased surprise/' 
As if direct from Paradise. 

Did Raphael have him in his mind ? 
No sweeter could he hope to find. 
When painting his cherubic kind. 

He fills the house with sunshine-rays^ 
And makes the days all pleasant days, 
So gracious are his winsome ways. 

Pet names are showered on his head, 
And blessings floated o'er his bed, 
Mingled with prayers for " daily bread." 

W^e call him .'•'lambkin," "precious bird," 
And "treasure-trove," most loving word, 
And all fond names that e'er v/ere heard. 

We dare not worship, but bow down 

With loyal love before his throne, 

Love that v/ill live when time has flown. 



A peerless prince ! No crowned king 
Can more obedient subjects bring. 
Than they who "viva la" Willie sing 



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TO CHARLIE AND WALTER. 




One day the tiny baby came ; 
Already he is known to fame,--- 
Sv/eet Herbert Irving is his name. 

His eyes are blue as summer skies ; 
His cheeks are pink as blossom dyes, 
And, O, he looks so very wise. 

And smiles come rippling o'er his face, 
And dimples to the smiles give place, 
Enchanting all with infant grace. 

I do believe his heart has grov/n 

As large as m.other's, and is sown 

With love-flowers, which are quickly thrown 

To every one as he comes near, 

Starry and golden they appear, 

And each one calls him ''little dear." 

I think sometimes he'll play v/ith me. 
And climb the famous walnut tree; 
Chase butterflies and humble-bee. 



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Exploring go to sylvan wood, 

To watch the squirrels hide their food, 

And see the birdies nurse their brood. 

I'll show him where the violets grow, 
Green moss, and daisies white as snow. 
And where the tinkling brooklets flow. 

To baby-brother I'll be kind. 
And if he frets me, never mind; 
By loving him, his love I'll find. 




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BELLE'S BABY. 




Baby Beautiful came to Belle 
Evermore in her heart to dwell, 
With love no mortal tongue can tell. 

Baby Beautiful spreads her v/ings; 
Angelic now she seems, and flings 
A halo o'er all earthly things. 

Baby Beautiful wears a smile ; 
A cherub sits by Belle the while, 
Innocence free from every guile. 

Benisons on the darling child! 

Pansies. violets, roses wild 

Budded and bloomed when baby smiled. 



Baby Beautiful ! may no tears 
Dim her eyes, nor wearying fears 
Cast their shadows in coming years. 




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RAIN AND WIND. 



Foi^ GHAfiLiE, (By I^equest.) 




The Rain-king slowly sailing by, 

Saw a fairy-flower 
Faint, drooping in the noontide heat, 

Thirsting for a shower. 

"Aha!" said he, '^here's work for me." 
And softly sprLakled dew 
O'er leaf and bud and grassy earth, 
While round the birdies flew. 

"I'll call my brother. Wind," said Rain, 
"To fan the fairy-flower. 
He's just behind the garden gate, 

Sleeping in the bower." -: 

Then Wind came out with zephyr's grace. 
And kissed the winsome thing. 

When lo ! appeared a golden cup, 
A flow'ret of the Spring. 

Thus Wind and Rain together worked 
To make the King-cup grow, 

Then W^ind flew off to raise a kite. 
And Rain to make a bow. 



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OUR ANGELS. 




Two angels always walk with us, 
E'en nov/ they're by our side. 

One on the right^ one on the left 
With noiseless step they glide 

One has radiant starry wings. 

And countenance of light 
Wherein are mirrored all pure thoughts. 

All holy things and bright. 

Submission, patience, holy love, 

Devotion, charity 
That suffereth long, is from above. 

The greatest of the three. 

The other---see his wings, earth-stained. 

Are trailing in the dust. 
While on his brow, deep marked, you read 

Of envy, pride and lust, 

And greed of gold and orphans' wrongs. 

Of avarice and hate ; 
While every passion, every sin 

To do his bidding wait. 



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He, too, v/ith music stirs the air^ 
A dirge-chant greets our ear,— 
Of virtue lost, of hope betrayed,— 

We shudder while v/e hear. 

Tv/o angels alv/ays walk with us. 
E'en now they're by our side; 

And we may choose v/hich e'er we will, 
Through life to be our guide. 




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THE LITTLE CHILDREN. 




Dearly I love the children^ 

The little v/insome things; 
White-robed are they, for innocence 

O'er them its halo flings. 

I know this world is purer 

For children being here; 
They walk by faith, the children, 

And never feel a fear. 

'^'What leaves are to the forest/' 
Aye, daisies to the fields. 
And stars to heaven, are children; 
To us from crime a shield. 

Are not they of the kingdom? 

Burdened with sense of sin 
The earth-stained turn from heaven's gate,- 

The children enter in. 



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'THE BEAUTIFUL CHILD JESUS. 




The beautiful child Jesus ! 

Come^ children^ come and see 
The wondrous beauty of his face, 

Its dove-like purity. 

'Tis not an earthly beauty. 

As mortals love to trace; 
But holiness and gentleness 

Give it refulgent grace. 

And ever circling round his head, 

There is a radiant light; 
So, children, do his precious words 

Shine out through darkest night. 

The beautiful child Jesus! 

Come, children, learn to pray, 
Of him who taught us how to ask, 

Our bread from day to day. 

The beautiful child Jesus ! 

Come, children, learn to live; 
Like him v/ho taught us foes to bless. 

To pity and forgive. 

The beautiful child Jesus! 

Oh! may we live and die. 
Bearing his cross upon the earth. 

Wearing a crown on high. ♦ 



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SUMMER DAYS. 



The Summer days have come again, 
The days for which I pined; 

I hear the whispering of the grass, 
The sighing of the wind. 

I feel new life v/ithin me glov/, 

Of holier, heavenlier birth, 
As I watch the flowers springing. 

Fresh from the mother earth. 

Voices I hear in rustling leaves, 

Voices from spirit-land; 
And music of the lily bells 

Tells of an angel band. 

We read.---" Our life is but a span/'' 

Yet, in one Summer day, 
I seem to live v/hole weeks and months. 

Beneath its gentle sway. 

The Summer days have come again. 
The days for which I pined, 
hear the whispering of the grass. 
The sighing of the wind. 



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WEARY WAITING. 



I^EPLY TO "SUMMEII LoNGINGS. 




Ah! my heart is weary v/aiting- 
Waiting for the May." 



I am weary, weary v/aiting. 

Waiting for the May; 
I would see the fresh grass springing 
I v/ould hear the children singing, 

Singing at their play. 

I am weary waiting, weary 

For the Summer day, 
For the many-tinted flowers. 
For the leafy, greenwood bowers, 

•Bowers bright and gay. 

I am waiting, waiting weary, 

V/eary for the May; 
Oh, to see the water spraying ! 
See the sparkling fountains playing. 

Playing all the day. 



Iff 




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I am weary^ waiting, sighing, 

Sighing for the May; 
I would see the red clouds flushing, 
Hear the whirr of bird wings rushing, 

Rushing on their way. 

I am tired of storm, and wind- cloud, 

Darkness, gloom alway; 
Tall trees leafless, snow-clad, dreary. 
Bird songs hushed; Oh! I am weary. 

Weary for the May. 




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THE WESTERN LIGHT AT SUNSET. 




The brilliant Western light ! 

Whence the spell 
It weaves around my heart ? 

Who can tell ? 

The lovely Western light ! 

Holy light ! 
Calm its glow, ere it sinks 

Into night. 

Holy light ! As I gaze, 

I commune 
With angels, and m.y heart 

Is in tune. 

Far beyond I would soar, 

For I know 
Music there is floating, 

Soft and low. 

'Tis a glimpse of Heaven ! 

Oh ! may I 
Find as bright a Heaven, 

When I die. 



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REPLY 



'The Crickets are Chirping the Summer A'vay. 



The crickets have chirped the Summer away, 

The harvest has been and gone--- 
The gleaners walk with mournful talk, 

(Bearing their sheaves of corn). 
Of the Winter coming in sad array. 
Now the crickets have chirped the Summer away. 

The crickets have chirped the Summer away. 
And a thousand hearts are crushed: 

Fair, bright young life ended in strife ; 
A thousand voices are hushed j 

No longer is heard the haunting lay 

Of the crickets chirping the Summer av/ay. 

The crickets have chirped the Summer away, 

The Summer with lilac bloom. 
And blossoms red have paled and fled; • 

The lily has found its tomb ; 
Ah ! grasses grew brown and mosses turned gray. 
As crickets were chirping the Summer away. 





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The harebell has tolled its requiem-chant 

. For the brave who sank to rest 

Where the cannon's roar boomed out from the shore, 

Or beneath the sea-wave's crest ; 
As the sun went down on that August day, 
We knew that the Summer was chirped away. 

But a light is gleaming through poplar tops. 

Its rays a beacon for all ; 
O rainbow hue, golden and blue, 

A guide lest mortals should fall , 
'Tis a promise we know of a Summer day 
That is coming, and ne er can be chirped away. 




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TO THE FiaURE OF TIME, 



In the Pi^ocEssioN of Antiques and Hoi^i^ibles. 




Whither art marching. Father Time ? 

Where the tv/o worlds meet ? 
We, gazers on, are marching too, 

With rapid, hurrying feet. 

Seldom we see thy ancient form; 

We know thou'rt passing by 
With scythe and glass : at thy approach 

Quickly our moments fly. 

Men talk against thee, call thee old, 

And d^U, and cold of heart; 
Say thou destroyest monum^ents 

And other works of art. 

Some even talk of killing thee! 

But v/ith majestic stride, 
Thou marchest on, defying those 

Who their full time must bide. 



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But others are thy firmest friends. 

And love the sunny hours 
Thou scatterest round, oh, many-hued 

As Summer's glorious flov/ers. 

Deal gently v/ith us, Father Time ! 

Turn not thy glass too soon; 
Oh ! ■ cut not off the golden thread 

Of life, ere yet 'tis noon. 




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THE SOUL'S IMAGE. 



V/hat iii\age and superscription, does our soul wear — the earthly or the 
heaverily ? " — Lothi^op's Sermon. 




What superscription, O my soul ! 

What image dost thou bear? 
Do earth-stains mar its loveliness ? 

Is guilt reflected there ? 

What image dost thou wear, my soul. 
Inwrought v/ith life-long toil ? 

The heavenly^ bringing precious hope, 
Free from life's dust and soil 1 

Does holy love the impress leave ? 

Is charity within ? 
Is the soul's image bright and pure, 

Or is it dimmed by sin ? 

Oh, I would bear thy image, Christ! 

Engraved upon my soul; 
With thee in pastures green v/ouid walk, 

Until I reach the goal. 



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HUMAN LOVE. 




O Human LovG; O Human Love, 

What shall thy mission be ? 
To walk abroad o'er all the earth. 

Binding all hearts to thee. 

None are so rich they need thee not; 

The poor v/ill bid thee stay ; 
The wretched will be happier 

For thy illumined ray. 

Press closer to thy breast the babe 

Left motherless and lone : 
Walk by the side of youth; and sing 

Sweet songs of joyous tone. 

"Watch by the- aged, weave thy spell 

So they forget their tears ; 
Tend them with patient graciousness, 

And soothe away their fears. 

Then spread thy wings, enfold each poor 

Grief- stricken child of earth : 
Whisper of Heaven, and lead the way 

Until the second birth. 



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UP THE HILL. 




Up the hill ! But yesternight 
We gained the highest peak; 

Our feet are weary with the march. 
Our spirits faint and weak. 

Up at last ! What have v/e gained ? 

On either side the hill, 
The flow'rets grew with fragrance strange- 

For us to choose at will. 

But we— we chose the flaunting weeds. 

And would not step aside 
For blossoms of Humility, 

But grasped the thorns of Pride. 

We looked not for the deathless flov/ers 

Of the fair Patience-tree, 
But culled the flaming Anger-buds--- 

Their poison would not see. 

We gathered sprays of paly blooms 

And bound them in our hair ; 
Ah m.e ! 'twas Envy's deadly vine, 

That we had thought so fair. 



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And now v/e're up, with both hands full 
Of weedS; sere, withered, dead--- 

The beauty that allured us gone, 
And all their perfume fled. 

Come, throw away the worthless things ] 

We must descend the hill ; 
I see the fair Eternal flov/ers 

G-rowing in beauty still. 

Then haste to gather w^hile v/e may, 

Ere at its foot v/e lie ] 
Weave coronals of Grace and Truth, 

To wear beyond the sky. 





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THE PAINTED CHAMBER. 



All have a painted chamber, 
A chamber in the brain, 

Wherein they hang up pictures, 
As seasons wax and wane. 

And every day they vary, 

These pictures quaint and rare 

One never wearies gazing, 
They are so wondrous fair. 




Oh, beautiful the faces 

That hang upon the wall ! 

Hangs, shaded by a curtain. 
The face best loved of all. 

Lovely and meek and holy, 
The look from out their eyes, 

Some mortals are, some angels 
Beyond the veiled skies. 

There is, far in the distance, 

A fair and stately tree ; 
Its branches shade the door-stone, 

Where children used to be. 



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Adown the walk^ the sunbeam 
Gleams with a golden light; 

The butter -cup and clover 
Bloom ever fair and bright 

Green moss, like richest velvet. 

Is growing by the well ; 
The sparkling v/ater laveth 

Each tiny nook and cell. 

*i* ^ ^ ^ •!* 

Said I that no one wearied ? 

Ah me ! ah me ! I ween^ 
The pictures may be shrouded ; 

Clouds float o'er every scene. 



All have a painted chamber, 
A chamber in the brain, 

Wherein they hang up pictures, 
As seasons wax and wane. 




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TO O. W. H. 




Hanging in Mem'ry's lofty hall 

Are pictures that you paint: 
They come re-tinted with new grace^ 

And frames all carved and quaint. 

Oh! well I knov/ the "river Charles/' 

In childhood's sunny day, * 

I stood upon the olden bridge 
And saw the blue waves play. 

The "ancient church" "'with lowly tower/' 

Far back in morning land, 
They dressed the church v/ith evergreen. 

And took me by the hand, 

And led me in to see the v/reaths, 

And hear the organ's tone : 
Methinks I hear the music now 

When musing and alone. 



The "sister church" with " glitt'ring vane. 

'Twas there sweet counsel fell 
On listening ears, from lips revered.--- 

I love that church full v/ell. 



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•'Pride pillared stone/' the -'Vassal tcmb.'= 

The '-Goblet and the Sun;" 
Oft by its side mid weeds and grass^ 
. My childish feet have run. 

I know the tree where Katy-did 
Hid when she sung her song, 

O happy tree, to have the tale. 
Which Kate had kept so long. 

It is an "Elm;" its graceful boughs 
Hang arching o'er the street; 

Its "girdle" measures eight good yards. 
Its height is eighty feet. 

The ancient maiden sisters three ;-- 

I knov/ the painting true. 
The tiny picture-books they sold 

I loved as well as you. 

They used to cut their skeins of silk 

And hang them o'er a line. 
And for a penny you could buy 

A needlefull of fine, 

Or coarse, pink, blue or red, 

To work a sampler gay. 
Perhaps you know they had such things 

In that old-fashioned day. 



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Dear souls, I never dreamed them poor, 
They always dressed so gay ; 

''The Ladies Howe "---I used to hear 
The common people say. 

Hanging in Memory's lofty hall 

Are pictures that you paint : 
They come re-tinted with new grace 

And frames all carved and quaint. 




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TO J. J. M 



On Receiving this Autograph of J. G. Whittiei?. 

"Do thine own work ; it shall succeed 
In thine, or in another's day ; 

And if denied the victor's meed 

Thou shalt not lack the toiler's pay." 



Thanks for thy graceful gift; to me it tells 
Of all sv/eet sounds, and as the music swells, 
Through all I hear the the peal of Freedom's bells. 

Thanks for the poet's song; henceforth to me 
For all Life's work a motto it shall be, 
Although the victor's meed I may not see. 

Thanks for the poet's name , serene the light 

That glints across the page, a halo bright 

Like star that gleams from Heaven, a guide by night. 




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THE MAN IN THE MOON. 



They say he lives up in a tree ; 

Pray, are his trees like ours ? 
And do the branches twine around, 

Forming green shady bowers ? 

Or are they dry and shriveled things, 

All leafless, scathed and bare ? 
Nov/ tell us, Ancient Luna Man, 



What dost thou do 



up 



the 




Man in the Moon ! Man in the Moon ! 

Of some use you must be ; 
Perhaps you saw your branches off, 

And give in charity, 

To those v/ho have no wood or branch. 

Or tree-top of their own; 
That must be it ! and that is why, 

Thy name has always shone. 



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ISSACHAR. 

Genesis : XLIX. 14, 15, 




Rise to thy feet, O Issachar! 

Stand firm; thy burden bear; 
For thou art strong. From off thy limbs 

The chains of bondage tear. 

Bear up thy burden, Issachar ! 

No longer crouch a slave. 
Oh ! seek not for inglorious peace, 

And find inglorious grave. 

The foe's upon thee, Issachar ! 

His banner on thy walls, 
And floating v/ith its serpent guise 

In thy ancestral halls. 

Stay not to see the ''pleasant land," 

Say not of rest, ''.'tis good;" 
The foe's upon thee, Issachar, 

O'erwhelming as a flood. 



Rise to thy feet, O Issachar ! 

Stand firm; thy burden bear, 
For thou art strong. From off thy limbs 

The chains of bondage tear. 



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CHARLES SUMNER. OF BOSTON, 



"Three hundred and thirty-three members ansv/ered to their names, 
with the v/ords, "CHARLES SUMNER, of Boston;" and as the Clerk 
responded with the same words to each vote, they rang upon the ears of 
the large assembly, more than six hundred times during the hour occupied 
with calling the roll." 

"It is said no sound is ever lost; that every word uttered upon 
earth, is echoed and re-echoed through space, for ever." 



Old Massachusetts ! nobly thou 
This day thy work hast done. 

Proudly thou speakest for the right; 
And for thy honored son. 

Three hundred voices on the aii-. 
Ringing the loved name forth: 

Three hundred voices echoing back, 
" Charles Sumner/' of the North ! 

Throughout the land, beyond the sea. 

The voices will be heard ; 
His name shall stand for Liberty, 

The freeman's rallying word. 




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Throughout the land, beyond the sea, 

Above in arches high, 
Voices are ever echoing 

A name that ne'er v^ill die. 

Unfurl the banners ! even now 
The stars more brightly shine , 

Is one more glorious than the rest'^ 
Old Bay State, it is thine. 

Gather fresh laurels, Ivniie tv/o v/reaths. 

Wreaths for a victory won, 
Loved Massachusetts, one for thee. 

One for thy chosen son. 




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THE POOR. 



Written for a Charity Fair. 




The poor! they daily walk with ns, 

The dusty path of life; 
And v/eary, weary is the part 

They take in human strife. 

The poor ! they always are with us , 

We cannot feel or know, 
The bitter of their bitterness, 

Their misery or woe. 

The poor! they soon shall rest v^^lth us. 

Together v/e shall lie; 
Ah, what is then the lurid glare 

Of gold, to them who die? 

The poor! they soon shall rise with us. 

There is a better land ; 
And there, before the Father's throne, 

Together we shall stand. 

Aid for the poor! give aid! give bread! 

And with the bread, give life ! 
For v/eary, weary is the part. 

They take in human strife. 



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AN APPEAL. 



Written for a Charity Fair. 




See ye the poor that wait, 
At the fair city's gate, 

Hungry for bread? 
Hear ye the waiiing cry 
From those who starve and die 

When hope has fled? 

Know ye the thousand hearts 
That break, when life departs 

Freighted with grief, 
Temptation, doubts and fears,. 
And human anguish-tears. 

With no relief? 

The children! who can tell 
Where little children dwell 

Who have no home ? 
Who teaches them to pray 
At eve and dawn of day, 

Beneath the dome? 

This be our work to do, 
As life we journey through, 

All bruised reeds 
To bind; all hearts to cheer; 
Be to the mourner near; 

Plant flowers for weeds. 



38 




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PLEADINGS. 



Wl^ITTEN FOR A ChARITY FaIR 




The winter, chill and dreary, 

Is sitting by the door; 
The poor a- cold and weary, 

No carpet on the floor, 
No bread within the cupboard. 

Within the grate no fire; 
Watch lest he gain an entrance 

To them misfortune dire. 

t 
Wan sickness comes appalling , 

Within the home no light; 
Death ! They alone must meet it 

_With darkness and the night 
Bethink you, it is fearful 

To feel that death is near,--- 
None to give the v/ater-cup 

No word to bless or cheer. 

Who can be good v/ith hunger 

Grim, gnawing at the heart? 
Say to temptation glittering 

"Begone! From me depart." 
Who can be pure and holy 

In that dread bitter horn- 
When povert/ enfolds them 

With more than iron power "^ 



39 



^ 



-13 



Come then, dear Mercy's sisterS; 

With healing on your wings. 
Sweet Charity precedeth 
• And always sunshine brings. 
V.isit the lowly dwelling, 

Keep winter from the door , 
And o'er the broken-hearted 

The oil of gladness pour. 




^ 



-« 



HYMN. 



Wl^ITTEN FOI^ THE BoSTON UnITAI^IAN FESTIVAL, 1863. 



Swing censers in the air, 

Filled v/ith sv/eet incense, prayer 

Our psans raise 
To God the Holy One, 
Through Jesus Christ, His Son. 
Who hath the victory won. 

Glory and praise. 




God bless our native land; 
And bless the noble band 

Who have gone forth 
In Freedom's cause to fight 
The battle for the right, 
In darkness to shed light- 

From East, West, North. 

We bring our hearts to thee, 
Bare them that thou may'st sc 

Judge us in love. 
Forgive each idle thought. 
Pleasure that sin hath bought. 
All that with grace is fraught; 

Receive above. 



^ 



^ 



In this calm hour draw near^ 
Incline Thine ear to hear ^ 

Keep us this night. 
Lead us forever more 
,By the bright heavenward shore 
Till life for us be o'er;--- 

Then comes the light 




-^ 



^ 



-s 



LINES 



'WOMAN SUFFRAGE DEDICATION SUPPER. 



Build high the temple, let it stand. 

With battlement and tower. 
A monument in our fair land 

Of woman's queenly pov/er. 




And from its minarets and dome, 

Let flag and pennon wave, 
With this inscription, "Woman, oome, 

Thy sister v/oman save." 

Save from the downward path of sharne 
Save from the drunkard's grasp : 

Let not our daughters bear his name : 
'Tis death such hand to clasp. 

Too long has woman bent to earth 

Beneath the iron rule 
That branded her from very birth 

As "idiot" or "fool." 



-€5 



-^ 



See to it; sisters, that your lav/s 
Are all for woman's weal ■ 

That each one is, without a clause. 
Holy, and v/ith God's seal. 

Build the fair temple; let it stand, 
With battlement and tower, 

A miracle in our dear land 
Of v/oman's queenly pov/er. 




^ 



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GOOD NIOHT. 



Written for the Mechanics" Association Festival. 




Good night ! the fairy- winged Hours 

Have flitted swiftly by; 
This what they whispered ere they passed 

Into Eternity. 

"O we v/ould have forevermore, 
This place a hallowed shrine, 
For noble thoughts in coming years, 
And memories of lang syne. 

■ Be first in every worthy cause ; 

Be first to think, to plan, 

To act, whene'er 'twill elevate 

And bless thy fellov/ man. 

'' O we would have forevermore, &c. 

Thy fathers left a goodly name 

Engraved upon the roll, 
See to it that no mar or blot, 

E'er comes to stain the scroll. 

'■^ O we would have forevermore, &c." 



45 




-^ 



This what they whispered; the last Hour 

Passed quickly out of sight ; 
And listening still, I caught the words, 

■'Good night, good night, good night! 
O we would have forevermore, &c.'' 

But go we East, or go we West, 

We'll keep the msm'ry bright. 
Of these fair Hours, and this gay scene. 
Good night, good night, good night I 
O we would walk forevermore. 

As in the blessed light ; 
We pledge the fairy-v/inged Hours ! 
Good night, good night, good night 




C5- 



-19 






A aUEETING 



CALEB METCALF, ON HIS 90th BIRTHDAY. 



Tune—" Auld Lang Syne." 

From distant homes we come to-day 

Thy presence; friend; to greet; 
Of love and reverence weave a wreath. 

And cast it at thy feet. 

We bid thee welcome; here beneath 
The "Elm" tree's pleasant shade. 

Where infancy's glad dreams were dreamed; 
And boyhood's plans were made; 

Where manhood's visions dawned, how fair' 

Rose-tinted every cloud: 
And '-'ships at sea" gleamed out full sail. 

Each one with gilded shroud. 

We bid thee welcome now as then, 
Green is the old "Elm" tree, 

And with the music of its leaves 
Makes ceaseless melody. 





^ 



Father and Mother, both are here; 

Brothers and Sisters all ; 
Some from the spirit- land afar. 
Give answer to the call. 

And while beneath the old '^Elm" tree. 

We meet the living throng, 
We'll not forget the loving friends. 
Who join with us in song. 

O, length of days has been thy boon ■ 

Life counted out by years; 
May all thy present be serene : 
Thy future v/ithout fears. 

And when sweet thoughts of other days 

On sparkling wings flit by. 
May this fair scene beneath the '' Elm/' 
Live in thy memory. 



ruLY 22d, 1867. 




A WELCOME 



Rev. Augustus Woodbury, on his Return from Europe. 



The time for singing birds has come,"-' 

The flowers are in the land. 
Our pastor keeps his faith v/ith us. 

And v/ith his little band 
Is safely moored in peaceful bay. 

The perils of the sea^ 
The drear night-watch, the stormy clouds 

And dangers on the lea 

Have passed away. We all unite 

To give him welcome home. 
To pray v/ith us, commune v/ith us, 

As, standing 'neath the dome, 
He points the way to God and truth , 

The way to live on earth. 
That dying v/e may find that death 

To us is only birth. 




* Mr. Woodbury, in his last discourse before his departure, said, 
5n the time of the singing of birds is come, I will be with you again." 



^ 



-s 



O'er land of beauty, land of song, 

He wandered far and wide, 
But to his fair, free land he -turned 

His face at even-tide. 
Oui-. pastor keeps his faith v/ith us, 

And in this glad Spring-time 
We bid him welcome home again 

From distant foreign clime. 

Give God the praise ! Who stayed the stcrmj 

Who rules on sea and land, 
Who sets his angel-watch and holds 

The waters in his hand. 
Give God the praise forever more ! 

High let the choral rise, 
Higher I Till all of space is filled 

Beneath the azure skies. 




-^ 




THE LOYAL NORTH. 



Ring oiit, ring out with clarion shout; 

Thy loyal voice, O North! 
From off thy hillS; beside thy riiis. 

Bid thy brave sons come forth. 

Gome forth, come forth, O loyal North. 

And meet the rebel band. 
Unfurl the flag and never lag, 

Till o'er our entire land 

It floats and waves, o'er homes and graves, 

Aye o'er our country free. 
Ring out, ring out with clarion shout. 

The call of Liberty. 

No traitor hearts, no dastard arts, 

But loyal every breast. 
Till each brave son himself hath v/on 

The eagle for his crest. 

Come ibrth, come forth, O loyal North ' 

And write on Hist'ry's page 
Bright deeds of fame ; come trace thy name 

For all the coming age. 



51 



-^ 




THE BARBERRY 



Beautiful bush, beautiful bush 
With leaves of softest green, 

Pointed and fringed and edged v/ith pink. 
Loveliest ever seen. 

Its flov/ers of light are primrose-hued; 

Rose-shaped; with perfume filled. 
Scenting the air with fragrance rare, 

Aroma sv/eet distilled. 

Watch for the fruit, how wonderful I 
Gleaming v/here sunlight leads. 

Flushing and blushing red each day, 
And shaped like Eastern beads. 

I see the beads brimming with wine, 

Welcome to fevered lips, 
And hear the murmured blessing given 

By every one who sips. 

Each has a favorite flower. 

Or shrub, or vine, or tree, 
In characters of gold inscribe 

The name of Barberry. 



52 



-V 



THE TWO PEARLS. 



Each several gate was of one pearl."— Rev. 




The gats of pearl before our eyes. 
The gate of purity; 

Shining as a beacon light 
Guide to futurity ! 

The wondrous gate- --ah ! we behold ! 

But v/ho shall enter in? 
All those who love the Lord: whose hearts 

Are purified from sin' 

The pearl of price within our hearts, 

And we may enter in; 
Lord, teach us so to live our lives, 

That v/e the prize may win. 

The pearl of price within our hearts. 

So v/e may trusting wait. 
Dear Christ, thine own appointed time 

To enter in the gate. 



53 



^ 




IDOLS. 



I made an idol fair, 

Set it on high, 
With pearls adorned its hair ; 

Then the bright sky 

Shimmered its gold and blue 
On arms, facO; neck ; 

Of dust with earthy hue 
There was no fleck. 

Of truth I wove a chain 

Studded v/ith stars, 
Arrayed my god : in vain 

I looked for scars. 

A lovely, perfect thing 
Whispered my pride. 

What could a shadov/ fling 
Close to my side ? 

The sun came slowly up 

Bringing the day. 
Oh! disappointment's cup. 

My idol— clay ! 



54 



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THE RIVER OF LIFE. 



'■ Those who have fallen worn out by their march through the 
Desert have dreamed at least of a River of Life, and thought they 
heard its murmurs as they lay dying. "—Th3 Professor at the 
Breakfast Table. 




Worn with the Desert march, 

Earth's pilgrim rests- --to die, 
Comes sleep and brings a blessed dream, 
A lulling soand like silv'ry stream 
Of water flowing by. 

The murmur of thy v/aves, 

River of Life, he hears, 
Rippling over the golden sand 
That forms the shore of Eden land : 

No longer now he fears 

River of Death, thy tide, 

Whose sad moans never cease , 

Dying he hears the joyous sound. 

Of living water sought and found, 
And with him all is peace. 



-^ 



THE UNKNOWN SHORE. 




The unknown shore, the unknov/n shore, -- 

I see it in my dreams ; 
And in my blissful v/aking hours 

So beautiful it seems ! 
I fain would launch my earthly bark 

Upon the open sea. 
To reach the distant unknown shore, 

So radiant to me. 



Oh flower bedecked! O dev/ begemmed ! 

The v/ondrous unknown shore ! 
And they v/ho stand upon its banks, 

Nor weep nor sorrow more. 
Green pastures lie the entii-e v/ay ; 

The water by it flows , 
The Saviour's flowers, lilies, grov/ 

Beside the Sharon rose. 

The yellow flood comes shimmering dov/n. 

Palm trees are bathed in light _; 
Out from among the branches, flit 

Strange birds with plumage bright. 

Silver and white and gold. 
Bird-notes are heard 'mid rustling leaves 

Harp-tones are floating o'er ; 
Seraphic songs by seraphs sung, 

Echo on that fair shore. 



5Q 



-v 



I see no spectre on the shore . 

The living Christ is there ! 
He beckons me with open hands, 

He listens to ray prayer. 
O soul, go forth without a fear. 

To find the unknown shore. 
And all thy dread and all thy doubts. 

Thy darknesS; all are o'er. 




^ 



^■'THE STREET GALLED STRAIGHT. 



Acts IX : 11. 




Gan you see the beautiful street. 

The v/onderful street called Straight? 
At the end is the jasper gate; 
The path is marked by the feet 
Of the saints and martyrs v/ho marched 
On to the city of G-od; 
O'er briers and thistles they trod, 
Through deserts sandy and parched, 

Till they found the beautiful street, 
With trees of cedar and palm, 
And their tremulous hearts grew calm. 
When they sav/ the vision sv/eet. 
Pray that we, too, may find the street; 
Oh ! pray w^e may walk therein. 
With spirits unclouded by sin. 
May we kneel and the Master greet. 



-V 



-^ 



HEREAFTER. 



Hereafter is close at haftd." — E. B. Hall, D. D. 




Hereafter ! it has seemed afar, 
The strange, mysterious land: 

We see its golden turrets gleam. 
And find it close at hand. 

Close at hand---we may not v/ait 

Long, weary, anxious years. 
Daily we near the lofty gate, 

Through trials, grief and tears. 

Daily v/e near the lofty gate ; 

Beyond— ah ! who can tell 
What glories wait for those of earth 

Whose work is finished well ? 

Daily we near the lofty 'gate--- 

The portal of that land 
Wherein dwell friends long entered in. 

A loved and loving band. 

Hereafter! it is close at hand; 

Trim we our lamps, and wait, 
And pray, and watch ; at dawn, at eve, 

Be constant at ^the gate ! 



a^ 



-V 



BABY SLEEPS. 



A sigh upon the air, 

As baby's lamp grew dim ; 
Damp on the golden hair, 

And baby went to Him 

Who bade the children come--- 
Who said, "Forbid them not 

He took the baby home--- 
O ! blessed, happy lot ! 




White flowers wreathed around 
The one fair central flovvrer^ 

Strew leaves, make soft the ground- 
'Tis baby's resting-hour. 

Another little mound. 

More flowers wet with tears ; 
The baby's' sleep is sound--- 

No dreams, no griefs, no fears ! 



-^ 




til 



-^ 



AGNES. 



There was a rushing in the air ! 

Were angels passing by? 
Strange music ! do the angels sing 

When the pure-hearted die ? 



A little child of lovely form. 

Was fading fast away ; 
Watch, father ! for she may not see 

Morn of another day. 

Hush ! for the dying child doth speak, 
With accents low and clear ,--- 

' Do not be angry, if I die, 
Not angry,- father, dear." 

• Oh ! gladly would I stay with thee. 

But, father, they are nigh,--- 
The angels with their shining wings , 
Speak! shall I stay— or die?" 






-19 



Sadly he decked her for the grave. 
His beauteous child and good; 

He brought her birthday dress of v/hite. 
And little golden hood. 



Thou v/ast an angel on the earth. 

Bright^ beautii'ul and mild , 
An angel now in heaven thou art. 

Sweet Agnes- --Diirer's child. 





c^- 



-s 



PAUL AKERS. 



' ' His very name is a tribute to his religious sensibilities ; it was bestowed 
on him in sport, besause of his grave rebuke of the profanity of his young 
companions, and his serious views of life. Christened Benjamin, he was 
nicknamed '-St. Paul," and by the latter name he became endeared to his 
friends and known to fame." — Tugkhrman's American Artist Life. 



Early he won a sainted name. 
More lustrous than the after fame 
Which from his distant Roma came. 




O, record written for all time ; 

O; record heard through every clime 

And through eternity sublime ! 

'Tis meet that violets should grow 
Above his grave, and soft v/inds blov/ 
The cherry-bloomS; in rifts^ like snow. 

The maple-trees in tassels red 
Should wave in beauty o'er his head. 
And loving branches o'er him spread. 

The bees will hum and birds will sin^ 

And river Saco gently ring 

Her liquid notes, like living thing. 



-«5 



^ 



To all such beauty he was wed ; 
Friends will stand, v/ith reverent tread, 
Beside his purple-flowered bed. 

The pine tree sighs with perfumed breath, 
Whispers of life— no word of death; 

'Enter ye in/' the Master saith. 




^ 



-fS 



GOL. ROBERT G. SHAW. 



'The Rebels buried him under twenty-five of his colored soldi 




Egyptian marble! Thus they raised 

His monumental pile. 
'Twas m_eant in scorn; they did not see 

The glory-rays meanwhile. 

They could not see---their eyes were closed. 
Nor hear— their ears v/ere sealed--- 

The song of triumph that v/ent up 
From that dread battle-field. 

High, high it rose to Heaven's courts, 

Telling of duty done ; 
Self-sacrifice for conscience sake--- 

A martyr's crown thus won. 

More costly tomb he could not have-- 

Builded with human hearts ! 
Resplendent light will linger there 

Till Time itself departs. 

O, erring* men ! and did ye think 
That ye could war with God? 

The hero-martyr passed to heaven; 
Ye v/ait beneath the rod. 



-^ 



-^ 



IN MEMORIAM 
W. W. P. A. 



'There is no death. 




He is not dead ! he has exchanged 

The dust- soiled robes of life 
For vestures of immortal light, 

With heavenly beauty rife. 

He is not dead! a slumber deep 

Enfolds him in its rest : 
No pain nor grief nor haunting dream. 

Can mar repose so blest. 

He is not dead, but gone before, 

^'Into the silent- land;" 
There parted friends v/ill welcome him, 

A holy angel band. 

He is not dead ! friends, sorrow not. 

Nor weep as without hope; 
Those eyes, now veiled to earthly scenes. 

On glories bright will ope. 



»- 



-v 



IN MEMORIAM 
J. C. J. 



Ripe for the harvest ! gathered nov/ 

Into the Saviour's fold; 
Sheltered from Summer's scorching heat. 

And Winter's blasting cold. 




Meekly he followed in the path^ 

By the Redeemer trod; 
Safe is the path, O earthly friends ' 

It leadeth up to God. 

With outspread wings his spirit stood, 

Waiting"^ take its flight, 
'Upward and onv/ard" through life's mists. 

Where beams celestial light. 

Mourn not, O friends ! O Christian friends 
Mourn not his upv/ard flight, 

Tis well with him--bright, endless day, 
And there is no more night. 



JL^ 







-^ 



cs- 



-V 




IN MEMORIAM 
C. A. M. 



' Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow, 

And dash'd it out." 



Strange beauty on thy brow, sv/eet babe, 

Strange light within thy eye ; 
How could we dream that one so fair. 

So idolized, should die '. 

We could not see the angel throng 

Gathered around thy bed, 
We could not hear the song they sung, 

Or mark the path they led. 

Death came and sealed thy sunny eyes: 

We knew it was God's v/ill; 
And bowed our heads, and taught our hearts 

To whisper, -'Peace, be still." 

Thou'rt sleeping in thy lowly bed. 

Beneath the spreading tree, 
Rest, baby, rest— a little time, 

And we will come to thee. 



^ 



68 





-^ 



IN MEMORIAM 
W. M. R. 



Tenderly, lovingly lay him to rest 

Where the sunbeams gleam from the rose-hued West 

Plant the soft moss flov/ers over his breast. 

Idly his harp on the willow is hung, 

Ah ! never again shall the chords be strung, 

Or its musical notes o'er the world be flung. 

Lay him to rest where the forest trees moan; 

Lovingly, softly his spirit has flown 

On v/ings white v/ith light, to the Holy Throne. 

Lay him to rest where the chime from the bells 

Will float, as its cadence rises and swells 

From aves and psalms, through the wooded dells. 

Leave him in peace v/ith his Father, God ! 

He knows the way that His earth-child has trod. 

Plant the soft moss flowers over the sod. 





^ 



^ 




IN MEMORIAM 
M. J. D. 



■Dust unto dust ! and so we gave 

Her body to the earth ; 
Life unto life ! death's surging wave 

Gave her immortal birth; 
Opened for her the pearly gate 

To mansions of the blest ; 
For they v/ho on the Master wait; 

Shall find the promised rest 

We see the gleaming bridge of light 

O'er which our loved ones cross _; 
Away, away beyond our sight- -- 

Their gain, but ours the loss. 
The bridge of light---it heavenward tends 

Standing on either side_, 
The angels waiting, greet our friends, 

And bear them o'er the tide. 

And this the chant, as each nev/ guest 

Is guided safely o'er--- 
Rest for the v/eary-hearted, rest, 

Pain, death, shall be no more." 
The asphodels bloom pure and v/hite 

Along the heavenly road; 
Our loved ones v/ith a halo bright. 

Journey to meet our God. 




^ 




IN MEMORIAM 
J. M. B. 



Gone to the spirit-land, 

Whence earthly shadows flee : 
His saintly eyes are open now 

To immortality. 

Freighted with faith and hope 

He walked the aisles of earth , 
With patience and submission stood 

Awaiting second birth. 

The bow of promise arched 

In glory o'er his head ; 
Light shimmered, as from angels' v/ings 

Folded around his bed. 

To m.inister to him 

God sent His spirits tv/ain : 
Peace, like a benediction came, 

And Love, to free from pain. 

Dear mother," weep no more_. 

Thy son has perfect rest , 
Rest from the toil and cares of earth . 
He fought the fight; he reached the Heaven 

■•' Dear mother," it is best. 



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v 



ROME. 



Written before Italy's independence was acknowledged by Austria. 




''Land of my longing!" 'tis not Rome, 
With marble hails and gilded dome. 
And alcoves filled with many a tome 

Of quaint and ancient lore , 
With pictures born of artist thought. 
And statues inspiration wrought ; 
A holy shrine by pilgrims sought 

From near and far off shore. 

For there the eagle soars in vain, 
Fettered to ' earth v/ith iron chain, 
And silently he broods in pain 

Dreaming of life and light. 
Dream on ! perchance the day shall be 
When the blue skies of Italy 
Shall spread their arch o'er nation iree. 

From dawn of morn till night. 



72 



-^ 



Land of my longing !" from afar 

The lambent glory of a star 

Points out the v/ay : no cloud to mar 

The vision of repose. 
For weary hands, the earth-work done, 
For tired feet, the earth-race run, 
Beyond, beyond the setting sun, 

Land where the spirit grov/s. 




"I 



